


Yoga

by illhaveapepperonytogoplease



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, Morning After, legit just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19320061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illhaveapepperonytogoplease/pseuds/illhaveapepperonytogoplease
Summary: Tony and Pepper have a ridiculously fluffy morning/afternoon together





	Yoga

Pepper wakes up slowly, stretching out in the California king sized bed, confused when she doesn’t feel Tony next to her, his side cold and empty.

“JARVIS, what time is it?” She asks sleepily, squinting at the bright light coming through the windows. It looked well into the midday, which was unusual for her to sleep until.

“It is 2:17 P.M. The weather is-”

“Where’s Tony?” She asks, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

“Mr. Stark is in his workshop,” the AI replies dutifully.

“Thanks,” she says, sitting up on the bed, groaning when she feels the sore muscles in her legs.

She and Tony, between her business meetings and his missions all over the world, hadn’t seen each other in exactly twenty-seven days as of yesterday and definitely made up for lost time last night. From the moment she came in the door around five, his mouth and hands had been on her, and he hadn’t let her go to sleep until nearly four this morning.

She sits up and looks around, noticing with slight embarrassment that their bedroom is in total disarray; random garments hung off of random places, the sheets are practically in a knot, and everything that _was_ on top of the dresser is now strewn about the floor because Tony had cleared the surface before he’d bent her over it when they felt like couldn’t make it to the bed first. Suddenly, she notices that somewhere within the house, music is blaring because she can hear the bass from up stairs.

She gets out of bed, wincing at the way her muscles profoundly disagree with her movements, and searches for clothes, finding a long sleeve top of Tony’s that she had claimed as her own ages ago and some underwear, figuring it’s safe to walk around with so little on because it’s a Sunday and no one should be visiting.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face in the bathroom, she ventures out into the hallway, figuring the music is most definitely coming from the basement.

Every muscle in her legs aches as she begins going down the stairs, a song with a ridiculously long guitar solo fading before “Rich Girl” by Hall and Oates takes its place.

Pepper can’t contain her laugh when she makes it to the bottom of the steps and looks into the room.

Tony Stark-the ultimate billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist-is dancing around his workshop, using a wrench as a microphone, singing along to the song with reckless abandon as Dummy and Butterfingers quite hilariously bop their heads-or what would be their heads-up and down to the beat.

He doesn’t see her or hear the door open because the music is too loud, so she takes a moment to just watch him affectionately from the doorway as his hips sway to the beat and his arms thrust out in random, dramatic movements.

He looks happy, just lost in the moment of  enjoying a good song, and she genuinely can’t remember a time in the past few years he’s looked so at ease. Even at his best, she could tell there was something eating away at him, some gnawing worry that kept him up at night, but he seems completely carefree right now.

He’s in a tank top and sweatpants and his hair’s a little longer than it was the last time she saw him but she didn’t mind because she loved his hair-anyone who had gorgeous, thick, slightly curly hair like his _should_ grow it out a bit. It’s flying around his face as he tosses his head all over the place, practically screaming the lyrics so he can hear himself over the recording. She notices, with a slight blush, that he has bright red scratches from her fingernails down his back and other various little marks and bruises along his neck and shoulders. Images of them last night, fucking on any flat surface they could find, begin flashing through her mind, the-

“Hey, honey,” Tony calls when he notices her, turning the music down, not even slightly embarrassed by the fact that he’s been caught jamming like an absolute idiot.

“Hey,” she answers, opening her arms so he can walk into them, giving him a long good morning kiss that leaves her breathless for a second. “How long have you been up?”

“Maybe an hour-I was going to work on the suit but I got distracted.” He looks irresistible with that boyish grin and she gives him another kiss, hand coming up to cup his jaw as his rest on her hips. He’s a little sweaty from dancing and his face is slightly flushed and he’s breathing heavy but _damn_ if he isn’t the best looking thing she’s seen in twenty-seven days.

“We’re not allowed to be apart for that long ever again, okay?” She says when she pulls back, her tone demanding rather than suggesting.

“You sure?” He asks, his lips pressing against her pulse point, teasing the skin there, the stubble on his face scratching her. “The reunion sex is pretty good.”

“ _Pretty good_?” She quotes incredulously, pretending to be hurt, pulling away from his embrace.

“Okay-amazing,” he concedes, giving her hips a squeeze before letting her go, turning back to the tools and blueprints on his table. “You have anything for breakfast?”

“No, I just got up,” she says sheepishly, rolling her eyes at his proud grin.

“Oh, did I wear you out?” He nudges her hip with his playfully.

“I think the past month wore me out, don’t get a big head.”

The past month _had_ been exhausting; meeting after meeting, business dinners, random charity events, press clean ups, a slight dip in the stock market, and the constant stress of knowing Tony was out there nearly getting killed 24/7-it had all combined to make a very tiresome three and a half  weeks. But most immediately, yeah, their night of wild, endless sex had probably topped it off to make her sleep nearly ten hours straight.

“Yes, I’m sure I had nothing to do with it,” he says, severe sarcasm lacing his words. “How many rounds last night? Nine? _Ten_? That didn’t-”

“Shut up,” she smacks his chest, getting a laugh from him as he grabs hold of her hand and kisses her cheek.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he grins-that damned grin that makes her fall in love all over again every time she sees it-before asking hopefully, “You don't have to go anywhere today, right?”

“I have a video conference at six, but I’m going to do that in the office upstairs.”

Tony glances at the clock on the wall before nodding approvingly, saying, “Three and a half hours...I can work with that.”

Pepper laughs, motioning to the papers all over his table asking, “Don’t you have important stuff to do?”

“Yeah,” he meets her eyes pointedly. “You.”

“Be serious, you’ve got work-”

“Of course, of course-let me think a second; mind-blowing sex with _you_...experimenting with the aerodynamics of this new design...sex or calculations-sex or-?” He pauses dramatically, pressing a finger to his cheek in mock-thought, asking desperately, “Oh, what will I _ever_ choose?”

“You didn’t do much calculating yesterday, maybe you-”

“Yes, but sex. With you.”

“I’m well aware that it’s with me.”

“Then can you see why I want to do that instead of this?”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Pepper asks, pulling her knee up to stretch the muscles in the back of her thigh as he scribbles something down on one of the blueprints.

“You love it.” When she doesn’t immediately reply, he looks up, noticing her pained expression as she moves her leg. “What’re you doing?”

“Stretching,” she answers lamely, letting go of her leg.

“Why?”

“I-the...my legs are sore.”

She didn’t really want to tell him because it would stroke his already overblown ego but she also didn’t want him asking JARVIS what was wrong with her and the AI immediately give it away-and then suggest alternative positions during sex that wouldn’t result in strained muscles or something equally as embarrassing.

“Really?” His tone is teasing, arrogant, as he comes closer to her. “And why would _that_ be, Miss Potts?”

“Yoga,” she deadpans, getting an evil look from him. “There’s this- _Tony_!” She shrieks when he suddenly hoists her up, her hands grabbing his shoulders for support as his fingers dig painfully into the back of her legs while he sets her on his table.

“Sounds familiar,” he says, winking when she makes a face at the dirty remark. “Where’s it hurt?”

“Where your hands are.” She winces when he begins kneading the sore muscles, his hands strong and firm against her bare thighs, the sensation feeling better than it has any right to. “Ow-don’t-God, Tony-not so rough,” she hisses in pain when he hits a tender spot with too much force.

“See, if you had said that last night-” he barely manages to dodge her slap this time, laughing loudly. “Okay-sorry, honey-no more, I promise.”

“Now, if you had said _that_ last night…” she grins when he looks at her, a mixture of shock and pride and something else on his face, leaning forward for a short kiss as he resumes his place between her legs, loosely linking her ankles together behind his back while he continues his massage.

“I can’t believe you compared me to _yoga_ ,” he scoffs after a minute.

“I didn’t-I said that-why don’t you like it?”

“It’s just...” He pauses before stating obviously, “I’m so much better than yoga.”

“Oh, that’s what you think, is it?” She teases as she looks down at him, his devilish smile sending a rush of heat through her.

“Potts, if you had any idea what I was thinking right now-” his eyes are dark, voice raspy “-you wouldn’t be talking about _yoga_.”

“What are you thinking about, then, hmm?” She asks lowly, getting close enough to kiss him before deciding against it, nipping his bottom lip instead and giving him a little flirtatious wink. “... _tai chi_?”

He silences her giggle with a filthy kiss, mouth hungry and slick, his hands forgetting about her legs as one goes up the back of her shirt and the other gets lost in her hair. He’s warm against her skin and she leans into his touch, sighing at the feeling of it all-she’d missed this more than she’d ever be willing to admit. He kisses her slowly, sensually, tugging on her strawberry blonde locks to get closer, as if they could get any closer, and presses against the-

Tony pulls back suddenly, a thoughtful look on his face before he says matter-of-factly, “You know, if you’re so into exercising, maybe I do need to do those calculations after all.”

He tries to step away from her but she tightens her legs, pulling him into her, holding his face in her hands as she kisses him again, fingers playing with the long hair at the back of his head. She feels him smile against her lips, his hands less urgent, now roaming languidly, exploring rather than conquering. He’s a good kisser-probably due to his years of practice-but what always gets her is his hands; they know exactly where to go, what to do, what to touch, to get her running like a well-oiled machine. Time stood still when he was touching her, his hands invoking comfort and desire, making the rest of the world slip away until they were the only two left in all the vastness of space.

She pulls away first, watching his eyes open, those dark brown orbs focused on her so intently that her heart skips a beat.

“God, I missed you, Pep,” he mumbles into her skin as he drops his head on her shoulder, his sentimentality catching her off guard. He pulls her closer to him, nuzzling the nape of her neck before continuing, “Never again, you got it? I don’t care if all the countries in existence  want to meet with you and discuss world peace, you’re coming home.”

“Okay,” she agrees with a laugh, one that makes him look at her oddly. “What? Tony, it’s hard to take you seriously when your hand is up my shirt.”

He seems to have completely forgotten about his hands because he looks confused for a moment before he moves them, his rough palms running against the smooth skin of her torso as he looks at her. “Well,” he starts mischievously, “we’ll have to do something about that, huh?”

“What do you-” in a flash, the long sleeve shirt is whipped off her head, thrown somewhere into the back of his workshop “-have in mind? Give that back, it’s freezing in here.”

The cool air of the room makes goosebumps jump up and spread across her chest and arms, as she sits completely topless on his work table. He doesn’t seem to care about her body temperature-he’s looking at her like she just hung the Sun and Moon and all the stars in the sky.

“I know a few ways to warm you up,” he says, mouth attaching to the sensitive spot above her collarbone, getting an involuntary gasp out of her.

“A heater?” She manages to get out after a second, mind fuzzy as he kisses his way down her chest, pushing her until she lays flat on her back, glancing down at him, entranced by the way his large, rough, tan hand looks against her pale stomach.

“No.” He meets her eyes with a sexy smirk, ripping her panties clean off in one fluid motion before he nips at the skin by her bellybutton, murmuring, “ _Yoga_.”


End file.
